


Better Than You [Sing] Mine, Sweetheart.

by cityofravens



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Acapella AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auguste Laurent and Nicaise are brothers, Auguste is alive, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Character Death, Rival Acapella teams, TW: mention of csa in future (distant future), its me so theres a lot of angst sorry, nicaise is alive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 10:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11206596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cityofravens/pseuds/cityofravens
Summary: There was nothing, except maybe losing to the Akielons that Laurent hated about A Capella. And Laurent was more than sure that the Akielon’s new lead was only going to add to Laurent’s love of the hobby. Throughout the performance Laurent only looked back at Damen once, to see a gaping mouth and a mischievous glint in his eye. He smirked. The competition was going to be interesting this year.Or the Rival A Capella AU





	Better Than You [Sing] Mine, Sweetheart.

Bright lights shone into Laurent’s eyes as he looked on from the wings. He picked at his nails, the familiar sensation of pre-show nerves beginning to bubble in his stomach. Laurent pushed down the feeling, along with the increasing need to throw up, even as the stagehand yelled out to them,

“Veretians, you’re up in two acts. You better be ready to get your asses out on that stage.”

He breathed slowly. _Push it down, conceal it, don’t let it overcome you._ Laurent’s fear felt irrational. He felt idiotic for getting nervous over something he’d done a million times, something he was good at; Because Laurent knew he could sing, knew that the Veretians had a significant chance of winning this round easily. Hell, they’d be certain to win if it weren’t for the Akielons. Laurent gathered his thoughts, looking around the group and checking that everything was in order.

“Wait, where’s Aimeric?” Laurent asked, noticing their missing member.

“I think he’s throwing up?” Jord shrugged, “I don’t know, he murmured something to me and ran off.”

“Man, again?” Orlant sighed. Aimeric was the youngest and most visibly anxious member of the Veretians. He was a freshman, and this competition would be his introduction to the world of A Capella competitions. Laurent wasn’t so sure it was the stage fright, but rather the fear of failure, similarly to Laurent, that turned him into an anxious mess.

“Is he going to be okay to perform?”

“He’ll be fine.” Laurent assured his teammates. He turned around just in time to see Aimeric round the corner, a pale shade of green. Aimeric grimaced when he noticed the group standing there, a look of worry on their faces.

“Whoa. Dude, you don’t look so good.” Lazar grimaced.

“I’m fine.”

“He’ll be fine.” Laurent repeated, more to comfort himself than anyone else. The group slipped into an uncomfortable silence as the time ticked closer to the current performance’s end.

“Maybe doing some vocal warm ups will calm everyone down.” Jord spoke up, “Don’t look at me like that Laurent I was just making a suggestion.” Laurent continued frowning.

“Why? We don’t usually.” They never warmed up in the moments leading up to the performance and the idea of breaking their usual routine sat uncomfortably with Laurent.

“I don’t know. We’re all nervous, even you, and it might give us something to think about rather than us messing up or the competition.”

“What competition.” He scoffed. His team looked at him, their faces contorted into a look that screamed _the Akielons_. “Oh come on guys, we’ve beaten them before and we’ll beat them again. Besides, their lead dropped out just before the season started and I seriously doubt they’ve found a replacement in that short of a time period. So it’s an easy win.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Laurent whipped around, an unpleasant look on his face as he saw Nikandros, head of the Akielons standing right beside him. Of course they were there, Laurent should have noticed with the way his group was behaving. “Nikandros.”

“Laurent. I’d like to introduce you to Damen, our new lead.” Nikandros wore a shit eating grin and Laurent’s face remained, for the most part, emotionless. The new lead in question was a man of sturdy structure and beautifully tanned skin. He too wore a grin similar to the one on Nikandros’ face, though he felt it was for an entirely different reason. Laurent shrugged.

“I still stand by what I said, easy win.” He was about to be met with a reply from Nikandros when the MC of the competition called for the Akielons to be on stage. A loud cheering was heard through the crowd as their team was announced.

“Till next time, I can’t wait for us to kick your ass.”

“Have fun trying.” Laurent replied as the team walked onto the blackened stage. The Akielons were the crowd favourite, though Laurent was astonished as to why. Okay, they were a group of fairly attractive people (even Laurent could admit that), but they were mostly testosterone driven men, with the exception of Jokaste, who sung cringey top 40 pop songs. Despite this, however, they were the Veretian’s greatest competition and the two groups had a long ongoing rivalry. The only thing in common that the two groups had, except for their participation in the competition, was their burning hatred for each other. With the lights still out, the backing vocals began, the familiar cheesy yet seductive tune of Usher’s ‘OMG’ filling the theatre. Laurent rolled his eyes at the song choice although stopped with the lead’s opening line. Damen’s voice was rich and thick, entirely suited to the tone of the song.

“I think I’m going to be sick again.” Aimeric muttered. Laurent ignored him, his attention fully grasped by the Akielon’s newest member.

_Baby let me love you down. There’s so many ways to love you._

 

Damen was attractive, Laurent wouldn’t deny that. He was broad, muscled and his voice was incredible. Laurent thought it unfair, to have both unbelievable attractiveness and talent. He huffed at himself, almost embarrassed, self conscious, though not for the fact that he wished he had the looks and talent of the other man. Rather he was embarrassed at the fact that he not only found Damen attractive but also that Laurent found himself attracted to him. Though if anyone had asked he would most definitely deny it. Even without the two teams’ rivalry he should not have been appreciating Damen’s voice and he most definitely should not have been staring at Damen’s ass. Laurent looked back up, only to find that Damen was staring back at him.

 

_Check, check, check, check, che-checking you out._

 

He’d been caught, Damen’s smirk was enough to tell him that much. He felt himself flush. It may have been a coincidence, but from that point forward, Laurent noticed Damen’s ‘dancing’ becoming _a lot_ more provocative. Damen’s hips moved in ways he didn’t think possible and he looked side stage a lot more than needed for a performance to the crowd. It was sufficient to say that Laurent didn’t believe in coincidences. He frowned, glaring at Damen from side stage. Laurent didn’t appreciate the teasing. If he thought that a little flirting and some incredibly sexual dance moves were enough to ruin Laurent’s game then he was dead wrong, and he was going to find that out for himself.

 

Laurent didn’t make eye contact with the group as they left the stage. He stared straight ahead ignoring Damen’s eyes on him, and Nikandros’ attempts to start an argument in the thirty seconds they had in between the two performances. When the Veretians were announced, Laurent sauntered onto the stage and didn’t look back. The crowd cheered loudly as his team walked on stage and took their places. Laurent held his hand in the air, lowering a digit as he began to count down the performances start and waited as his group sung the opening melody. Once they started, Laurent took a deep breath and smirked, he felt comfortable, on stage and with his group, performing to the faceless masses. He enjoyed the adrenaline that pumped through his veins as he stood on that stage and when it came to his cue, Laurent sung.

 

_Dites-moi d’où il vient, Enfin je saurai où je vais_

Laurent preferred to sing in French, his native tongue, though it wasn’t often that he could do so, particularly in competition. The audiences generally loved the songs they already knew, so they could accurately compare their version to the original. So Laurent had settled for Stromae’s ‘Papaoutai’ one of the more well-known and upbeat French songs in American media.

 

Unlike the rest of his group, who had to think about their pronunciation as well as their singing, the language rolled off Laurent’s tongue naturally and he performed better than he’d ever performed before. Singing was like a drug to Laurent; it was addictive, an insatiable hole that could only be filled with the thrill of performing. He loved it. All of it. The bright lights, painting his pale skin colours from reds to blues. The anxiety resting heavily like a stone in his stomach, that grew and grew until it exploded out of him when he opened his mouth to sing. The darkness of the Auditorium, and the whistles and cheers of the crowd. The heaving in his lungs when he’d finished, and the sweat beaded on his skin from the exhaustion of the performance. He loved the satisfaction of winning. The triumph he felt, being able to look Nikandros in the eye, knowing he’d beat him.

 

There was nothing, except maybe losing to the Akielons that Laurent hated about A Capella. And Laurent was more than sure that the Akielon’s new lead was only going to add to Laurent’s love of the hobby. Throughout the performance Laurent only looked back at Damen once, to see a gaping mouth and a mischievous glint in his eye. He smirked. The competition was going to be interesting this year.

 

Back in the dressing rooms the group was ecstatic.

“I think that was our best performance yet!” Jord exclaimed, tearing open his bag in a search for his water bottle. Laurent did the same, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Although the adrenaline from the performance had worn off, Laurent could tell that their performance was likely a winning one. Or at least he hoped it was.

“So opening comp after party?” Torveld mentioned, as the team was getting ready to leave. Laurent shook his head.

“If it’s in some dorm room like last year you can forget it.”

“It’s not. Actually I heard it was in that new campus bar and someone mentioned they were supplying free alcohol to the performers.” Aimeric shrugged.

“And you didn’t think this information was necessary until now?” Lazar laughed, ruffling Aimeric’s hair.

“I’m not going.”

“Oh come on Laurent. You say that every year and you always end up at the party.” Orlant sighed.

“I mean it this year. I’m not going.”

“Sure you do. “ Laurent glared at Orlant.

“All that happens is that everybody gets drunk, we end up fighting with the Akielons and then we leave. It’s not my idea of fun and I’m not in the mood.”

“Look Laurent just admit defeat and come with us.” Orlant smiled.

“No.”

“Stop acting like a child.”

“Stop making me go to parties I don’t want to go to.” Laurent huffed.

“Please Laurent, just come won’t you?” Jord said, picking up his bag, knowing perfectly well that Laurent could rarely say no to him. He groaned.

“Fine. I’ll come.” His group cheered as they all left the room. Laurent grabbed his bag and followed the rest out the door. When he fell into stride with Jord he shook his head.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me into coming to this party. Again.”

“Please, we didn’t convince you, you wanted to go. If you didn’t you wouldn’t have agreed.” Jord laughed. Laurent sighed.

“You know me too well.” Jord smiled at him and Laurent laughed lightly.

“I can’t believe I actually have some desire to go to a party that’s destined to be a disaster, with all of you.”

“That’s what you get for hanging out with the A Capella kids.”

 

“And the results are in. Only the top three will progress to the next round.” Laurent stood, once again, beneath the bright stage lights, as all the A Capella teams that had competed that night, awaited the results, which would determine whether or not they would make it to the next round. Unlike the other groups, who only wished to continue the competition, all Laurent wanted to do was beat the Akielons. It was his only aim. They could be second to last, but as long as the Akielons were beneath them, Laurent couldn’t care less.

“In third place we have, the Patrans!” the MC announced. Laurent heard the team yell out in joy and he breathed deeply. _Please let us beat the Akielons._ He looked beside him at Jord, who frowned, looking nervous, and then at Aimeric who looked like he might pass out at any moment. _Oh god, please let us beat the Akielons._

“In second place we have…” Laurent held his breath.

“The Akielons!” He heard the crowd cheer out and he let out a breath, repressing a smile. _Did that then mean?_

“And finally in first place, “ _Please let that mean_ , “The Veretians!”

Laurent felt his team yell out in shock and excitement and he felt himself smile. Torveld, or Orlant was hugging him and somebody had their hand on his head. Usually he’d be uncomfortable, confined in the mass of his teammates, but with the joy of coming first he didn’t care. They were jumping around and smiling as they received the first place prize. Laurent snuck a look at the Akielons, who looked severely disappointed and felt his joy multiply by one hundred.

After the commentator concluded the competition, they left the stage, laughing and smiling.

“We won!” Aimeric announced in disbelief.

“We did.” Jord smiled at him.

“And now,” Orlant announced, “We are hitting that bar, and getting shitfaced.”

Laurent smiled as the group laughed around him.

 

Laurent regretted his decision as soon as he walked through the doors of the bar. The place was absolutely packed, full of the A Cappella teams that had performed at that night’s competition as well as some of the crowd. Laurent sighed; he could already feel the exhaustion that resulted from an excessive amount of stressful and anxiety inducing social interaction. Laurent looked back towards the doors, he was considering leaving the party and just going back home. He patted his pockets and groaned when he remembered he had left his keys in his backpack… that he had dropped off to his dorm. Laurent turned around to Jord to ask to borrow his, but Jord had disappeared into the sea of people who had crowded into the bar. Laurent frowned, glancing around the bar to see where Jord had vanished to, or at least to see if he could find any of his group.

 _Great Friends_ , Laurent thought, _leaving me all alone at a party they made me come to._ By some unfortunate chance, Laurent made eye contact with the Akielon’s newest member while looking around the crowd. Damen stared at Laurent and smiled. Laurent remained passive as he broke the gaze and instead walked to the bar to get himself a drink.

“Hey what can I get you?” The bartender asked him.

“Just a water.” Laurent muttered. The bartender laughed.

“That’s it? Not much of a party animal, are you?” He smiled, passing the glass of water and ice to Laurent.

“Designated driver.” It was a lie, but it was easier than explaining that he didn’t drink and it avoided idle conversation with the stranger. Laurent looked back over his shoulder into the crowd, only to make eye contact with Damen again. Damen smiled once more, Laurent returning it with his docile stare. This time, however, Damen started to make his way towards Laurent at the bar.

“Oh god, he’s coming over.”

“What?” The bartender asked. Ignoring him, Laurent made his escape, hoping that Damen would lose him in the crowd and he’d find one of his friends or at least someone he knew he could talk to. As he left the bar, he didn’t look back at Damen, worried that the eye contact would encourage the other man to pursue him. After walking through the bar for five minutes or so he ran into Torveld who was talking to a girl Laurent had thought he’d seen competing earlier in the night.

“Hey Laurent.”

“Hey.” Laurent said, looking around the room, he couldn’t see the Akielon’s newbie anywhere. _Thank god_.

“You good?” Torveld frowned, looking at Laurent.

“Fine.” Torveld shrugged.

“I saw your performance tonight, you were really good.” The girl told Laurent. Laurent smiled politely at her.

“Thanks. Sorry what was your name?” Laurent missed her introduction, getting distracted by suddenly seeing Damen’s figure in his peripheral vision.

“So you speak French, yeah?” she said just as Laurent focused back into the conversation.

“Yes, I was born in France, and I moved here with my brothers when I was a kid.”

“Wow, that’s really cool!” The girl exclaimed.

“I guess.” Laurent smiled. He glanced back to where he’d seen Damen before, to find that the Akielon’s newest member was thankfully engaged with conversation with another partygoer. Laurent breathed a sigh of relief. Excusing himself from his current conversation, Laurent made his way to the bar’s bathroom.

 

Standing in front of the sink, Laurent ran his hands under the cool water, patting some of it on his face and neck. The bar was busy and much too small to capacitate the amount of people inside it. As a result the bar was sticky and hot, much to Laurent’s disgust. While the bathroom was marginally better heat and crowd wise, it also smelt a lot like vomit and a little like pot. Laurent sighed. Taking a hair tie from his wrist, he pulled his hair back, hoping that it would at least help with the heat from inside the bar. He deliberated sitting outside, but the night air was getting cool and he hadn’t brought a jacket. He wished he could just go home. It was getting late and Laurent had a lecture early the next morning. Surely it wouldn’t be too hard to find Jord in the bar. Mentally preparing himself to go back, Laurent turned, only to run straight into someone.

“I’m so sorry.” Laurent looked up at exact person he had been trying to avoid the entire night. Damen stared down at him, a smile on his face.

“Oh it’s you.” Laurent muttered, making his way to leave before Damen spoke.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He laughed, rich and warm. Laurent said nothing.

“I don’t think we’ve properly introduced ourselves. I’m Damen.” Damen held out a hand for Laurent to shake, which the latter ignored.

“You’re also the Akielon’s newbie.” Laurent said impassive.

“Yeah? You’re Laurent, right?”

“Yes, and if I’m being honest I don’t trust or really want to talk to anyone who’s friends with Nikandros. Now excuse me.” Laurent made a move to walk past Damen but the other stopped him, with a hand on his arm.

“Hey, I don’t know why you don’t like Nik, but I don’t understand what that has to do with me.” Laurent removed his arm from Damen’s grasp and folded them across his chest.

“Look I’ve known many guys like Nikandros, and they’ve all been the same. None of them have been pleasant.” Damen frowned at him and sighed.

“Look, you don’t even know me. I’m sure you have a valid reason why you don’t like Nik but you can’t just automatically assume that just because I’m friends with him, I’m exactly like him.” The two of them stood in silence, Laurent’s back was pressed up against the cold tiled wall as he stared at Damen.

“Why can’t I make assumptions? I’m sure you already have an opinion of me. Especially seeming as Nikandros is so vocal in his dislike for me.” Laurent watches as Damen’s eyes widen in surprise. He sighs.

“It’s true that Nik has spoken about you,” Laurent shot him a look that said ‘exactly’. “But it’s not in my nature to make judgements about someone I haven’t met.” Laurent frowned. He couldn’t read Damen; he seemed so open yet Laurent had a hard time deciphering his intentions in speaking to Laurent. This would have been so much easier if the man in front of him wasn’t an Akielon, if he wasn’t friends with Nikandros and most definitely if he wasn’t so attractive.

“Oh, is that right? Well then, now that you’ve met me what do you think?” Laurent’s tone was teasing, flirtatious. Perhaps he could play along with whatever game Damen had up his sleeve.

“I think you’re incredibly talented.” He told Laurent. Laurent shook his head.

“Not what I meant. What do you think about me?” Laurent took a step away from the wall, towards Damen. Damen paused, gulped. He was visibly nervous and Laurent relished in the fact that he’d put an Akielon on edge.

“Well.” He stopped, Laurent raised his eyebrows. “You’re a little unapproachable.” Laurent almost laughed.

“Really?”

“But I think you wouldn’t be once someone actually got to know you.” Damen stood there awkwardly and Laurent smirked.

“Why don’t you then?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you try and get to know me?” Laurent smiled at Damen, the sweetest he could muster and Damen frowned at him.

“You’d want me to?” Laurent stopped for a second. He didn’t expect Damen to ask what he wanted. Generally someone would take Laurent’s flirting as an invitation. Laurent couldn’t tell if Damen was just on edge, scared that Laurent was going to strike, or if he was genuinely concerned.

“Why not?” Laurent shrugged.

“Then could I buy you a drink?”

Laurent smiled. “I don’t see why not.”

Damen smiled back at him. It was a wide smile, and he seemed genuinely happy, Laurent almost felt bad.

“Cool, cool.” Damen stood there just staring at Laurent.

“So are we going?” Laurent frowned.

“Oh, yes.” Damen laughed, before walking out of the bathroom. Laurent followed, looking over his shoulder every now and then to avoid running into his or Damen’s team members. It didn’t matter if he was only playing mind games with Damen, his team and the Akielons would be pissed either way, especially if Damen turned out to be sincere in his want to get to know Laurent. When they’d made their way to the bar Damen turned to Laurent.

“What do you want?” Laurent grabbed one of the menus off the bar and gave a look at the list.

“What are you having?” He asked Damen.

“A beer probably.” Damen leaned in close, the music loud in the bar. Laurent looked at the cocktail list.

“Have you tried the long island ice tea?” Laurent asked. Damen grimaced.

“They’re not nice, too sweet if you ask me.” Laurent smirked.

“Perfect. You see I have quite the sweet tooth.”

Damen flagged down the bar tender.

“Hey what can I get you?” The bartender asked Damen.

“A beer and a long island ice tea thanks.” Damen smiled, the bartender shot Laurent a questioning look and Laurent just smiled. He said nothing about Laurent’s previous trip to the bar and muttered an okay before going to get their drinks. Laurent turned back to Damen.

“So, how’d you get caught up in the whole A Capella scene?”

“Well, as you know Nik has been doing it for years now.” Damen laughed as Laurent made a face at the mention of Nikandros. “And well, their lead dropped out and he asked me to step in. And now I’m here.” Laurent nodded.

“So you wanted to do this?”

“Well, I mean it took a little convincing?” Damen admitted. Laurent rose his eyebrows.

“So what you’re saying is that Nikandros had to force you to join his team?”

“Yeah. Wait, No. Maybe. I don’t know. Don’t twist my words.” Damen stumbled over his words and grimaced at Laurent. He laughed.

“Just evaluating what Nikandros is like away from the competition.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t like Nikandros.” Damen sighed, looking at Laurent. Laurent shot him a look that screamed ‘really?’

“I mean I get the whole A Cappella rivalry. Kind of. It’s sort of stupid. Sorry.” He tacked the apology on the end, like he was scared of hurting Laurent’s feelings. “But this dislike just seems personal.”

“Oh it is.” Laurent refused to make eye contact with Damen, staring straight ahead at the bottles of liquor and spirits lined up on the shelves behind the bar. The conversation was moving into dangerously personal territory and Laurent was quickly becoming uncomfortable.

“But –“

“Your drinks.” The bartender butted in, placing to two glasses in front of Damen and Laurent.

“Ah thanks.” Damen said, passing the bartender his card to pay for the drinks. Laurent watched him walk to the till to complete the transaction as Damen took a sip of his beer, the silence between them, uncomfortable. Once the bartender had returned Damen’s card he turned to Laurent.

“As I was saying. Why don’t you like Nikandros? Did something happen?”

Laurent sighed. “Look Damen, just drop it. It’s really none of your business.” He wanted Damen to leave it alone. Laurent had a plan and Damen’s intrusive questions were ruining everything.

“I’m just trying to understand.” Damen frowned.

“I already told you. I don’t like guys like Nikandros.” Laurent focused his steely glare on Damen, though the other seemed unfazed by the burning in Laurent’s eyes.

“Guys like Nikandros… What does that even mean? Nikandros is actually a really good guy.”

“I’m sure.” Muttered Laurent.

“Just tell me why you hate him.” It wasn’t a question. Laurent clenched his fists. Laurent’s composure, which could usually withstand anything, was quickly crumbling. He was tired and all he wanted to do was go home, and Damen’s personal questions were pressing all the wrong buttons.

“Because I’m a cast iron bitch, frigid asshole, cold hearted bastard, would you like me to keep going? I’m sure you’ve heard all these anyway from _Nikandros_.” Laurent spat. He watched Damen’s expression go from confused to pitiful and uncomfortable.

“Laurent.” Damen said as he went to walk away. He couldn’t stand the pity in Damen’s voice. He didn’t want sympathy for Nikandros’ name-calling and harsh remarks. All he had wanted was for Damen to leave the subject alone, to leave him alone. He felt Damen’s fingers wrap around his wrist. Though the action must have been quick, Laurent felt it as if it were in slow motion, the pads on Damen’s fingertips sliding over Laurent’s skin, the pressure of Damen’s hands on him, it was all it took for the last of Laurent’s front to break down. He reached for his drink sitting on the countertop of the bar, and poured the whole thing over the top of Damen’s head. He heard Damen gasp and watched him try to wipe the alcoholic drink out of his eyes as the Long Island Ice Tea dripped off his brown curls and tanned, chiseled face, and into his lap soaking into his shirt and jeans. The people surrounding the two of them stepped back quickly, shocked at the scene Laurent had just made. He fixed them all with his coldest stare.

“Laurent! What the hell?” He heard Jord run up to him. Slamming the glass back onto the bar, he walked away from Damen and pushed past Jord.

“He pissed me off.”

 

Outside of the bar, the cool breeze cleared his head, allowing him to gain some self-control, before Jord came rushing through the doors after him. Laurent made no eye contact, though he was sure that Jord’s typical disappointed stare was plastered on his face.

“Look if you’re going to lecture me about making a scene, you can stop right now. I’ve heard it before and I don’t care.” He heard Jord sigh behind him.

“Why did you have to pick a fight?” Jord said tiredly. Laurent didn’t feel bad; he’d been on the receiving end of Jord’s disappointed looks as well as his educational and reprimanding lectures for his entire A Cappella career. The Akielons and himself did not mix, especially where there was alcohol, competition and Nikandros involved. Laurent just frowned and muttered,

“I already told you, he pissed me off.”

“Then you should have walked away, you should have used wit and sarcasm like you usually do. I don’t know why you were hanging out with the Akielon’s newbie in the first place, or what he did to upset you. But you know better.” Laurent finally turned to face Jord, who looked down on him, arms folded.

“I didn’t plan on pouring my drink all over his lap. Actually I intended to trick him into buying an expensive drink he hated and then leaving without drinking it, but he turned out to be more of an asshole than I thought. I lost control. I’m sorry.” Laurent walked away in the direction of his and Jord’s dorm block, Jord trailing close behind.

“More of an asshole than you thought?” Jord exclaimed in disbelief. “He’s an Akielon, what did you expect?” _That maybe he had been different_ is what Laurent wanted to say. But it was too hard to explain to Jord, who was prejudiced against the Akielon team, what he had thought he’d seen in Damen, when he couldn’t even explain it to himself. So instead he told him,

“Nothing.” Laurent replayed the night over in his head. He had let his guard down, trusted too easily. And it had led to Laurent believing that Damen had actually wanted to go out with him. Believing that Damen had been pleased that Laurent had accepted his offer for drinks. Looking back on it now it was stupid. He mentally cursed himself for believing, even for a second that any of the Akielons were decent people. That any of them were different than the stuck up, overly confident assholes he thought they were. He had hoped, for just a second that maybe Damen would challenge his opinion of the Veretian’s rival team. That he’d prove to Laurent that he’d misjudged them all (including Nikandros). Because the truth is, Laurent didn’t want to hate the Akielons. Rivalries were more fun when done in friendly competition, with witty sparring and teasing remarks. But the long lasting rivalry between the Veretians and Akielons was one based on hatred and broken trust, and Damen had done nothing but confirm his pre-existing beliefs of Nikandros and his team. He’d been angry at the bar, angry with Damen, angry with himself, with Nikandros. But now, Laurent was only tired and mentally drained. The competition, along with the party had Laurent on edge and he wanted nothing more than to go back to the dorms, have a shower and then go to sleep.

 

Laurent spent a long time in the shower. He let the hot water run down over his back, calming the tension in his shoulders. He let himself relax as he poured shampoo into his hand and lathered it in his hair. By himself, with the noise of running water in his ears, Laurent tried to clear his mind of everything that had happened tonight. He failed miserably. The situation played itself over and over in Laurent’s mind and he couldn’t remove Damen’s image from the back of his eyelids. He sighed. Laurent washed his face and rinsed out his hair before shutting the water off. Stepping out of the shower, Laurent dried himself off with a towel and changed into his pyjamas. As he blow-dried his hair, Laurent’s mind couldn’t stop thinking about the party, as he brushed his teeth he couldn’t stop thinking about the competition. Laurent couldn’t stop thinking, even as he lay down on his bed and pulled the covers over his shoulders. He couldn’t stop thinking but he wanted to. He wanted to more than anything. By some miraculous chance Laurent’s eyes slipped closed, sleep overcoming him.

 

“So, I heard you dumped a mixture rum and tequila over the Akielon’s newbie’s head last night at the bar.” Orlant laughed, clapping Laurent on the back as a way of greeting the next morning.

“Apparently news travels fast.” Laurent sighed. Orlant shrugged.

“Well, I heard from Lazar, who heard from Torveld, who heard from Aimeric, who heard from Jord, who saw it happen, so if that’s what you mean then yeah, news does travel fast.”

“That, and half the bar saw it happen.” Torveld smiled, walking up to the pair of them. He hi-fived Orlant and nodded at Laurent.

“That too.”

“So what did he do?” Torveld asked, holding back a small laugh.

“Exist.” Laurent muttered, as the three of them walked together to one of the college’s café’s for breakfast. The others laughed.

“No but seriously. Did he hurt you, or anything?” Torveld frowned. His face contorted into a look of worry. He hated when Torveld looked at him like that, his face full of care and emotion. He knew Torveld meant well, but it made Laurent uncomfortable. It made him feel guilty. Laurent sighed.

“No. He was just pushy.” Laurent admitted. He grasped his messenger bag’s strap a little tighter where it met his shoulder.

“Pushy?”

“Intrusive. He just pissed me off.” Laurent shrugged. If he down played how he felt, maybe the scene he’d made at the bar, the fool he’d made of himself, wouldn’t be such a big deal.

“Well, it doesn’t take much.” Orlant joked, nudging Laurent’s side with his elbow.

“Watch it.” Laurent shot back, smiling. “Unless you want a Strawberry Daiquiri down your shirt.” Orlant just laughed, and pushed open the door of the café. Laurent’s playful smile vanished when he realised the last people he’d wanted to see today were sitting at a table not far from the door of the café. Damen and Nikandros were talking loudly between themselves and eating, or at least they were until they realised who had walked through the entrance of the establishment. Damen looked away, seemingly embarrassed, as Laurent stared him down.

“What are you doing here, Laurent?” Nikandros spat. Laurent didn’t even look at him as he replied.

“Eating, unless that’s not what you do at café’s anymore.” Torveld and Orlant were glaring at the Akielon pair, as Laurent made his way to the counter to order.

“What the hell happened last night, huh? Your hard wiring short circuit?” Nikandros called, trying to get a rise out of Laurent.

“How about you shut up, Nikandros.” Torveld threatened, stepping closer to the table.

“Why? Am I hurting his feelings?” Nikandros smirked, “I’m just trying to see if I can get a robot to cry.” Torveld took another step towards Nikandros, leaning over him ominously.

  
“Stop.” Laurent told him, walking back towards the door. “Let’s leave, the stench in this place has made me lose my appetite.” With one last cold glare, Torveld stepped back and followed Laurent out of the café. Damen had said nothing the entire time, only watching as Laurent walked away. How stupid Laurent had been to think he or any of the Akielons could be more than what Laurent had always assumed them to be, _cowardly assholes_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, thank you so much for reading!  
> Thank you to my two wonderful Betas Lin and Mari, i couldn't have done it without you guys <3 !!  
> You can find me on twitter as @AkielosVere if you have any questions, or just want to see my continuous ranting about Capri!


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